When Winter Comes
by Wolfbiyo
Summary: ...HIS birthday comes as well. An unhappy idea leads to a violent ending, drenched in snow, RusLiet drabble and deep thoughts. Rated T for light yaoi and choking.
1. Chapter 1

_**...HIS BIRTHDAY COMES AS WELL...**_

Oh, How they had defied him.

Ivan wondered how could such a feeble, delicate creature become so bold at times, even if just for long enough to organise that pathetic... 'celebration'. How, if now the only thing he could do was to lay petrified, holding his unconscious brother? Breathing uneven, eyes wide, little gasps and sobs escaping his lips occasionally, Raivis seemed to grow smaller and smaller at each step the Russian took forward. Yet, still embracing Edward in a tight, tight grip, as if that ridiculous action would offer them any safety. It was usually so fun to see the young Latvian cornered like that, being swallowed by the larger man's growing shadow... But at that particular time, Ivan didn't feel the slightest trace of amusement. In fact, he was truly, deeply angry.

Had they not learnt anything from their experience of living with him? Of being a part of Great Russia, of BELONGING to him? Did they know nothing, absolutely nothing, about that time of the year and what it meant to their… _comrade_? Had they forgotten General Winter's 'gifts', at all?

Very well. If it was so, then, it was so. However, children who don't behave deserve… punishment. Yes… Punishment. With a grim smile plastered onto his face, Ivan walked slowly, dragging his feet. For a moment he turned his darkened eyes to scoop the destroyed living room sideways. The portrait of his rage. A scenery of ripped ribbons and banners hindered in colourful bundles here and there; up-side down chairs; shattered plates; the birthday cake, so beautiful with its icing thrown across the floor. The fact that the stunningly immaculate white reminded Ivan of snow was truly a shame.

And it made him feel even angrier.

Seeming not to care about whether or not he was spreading more dirt around, the Russian left a trail of red footprints as he stepped on a small pool of Estonia's blood, picking up a rusty, stained pipe along the way. His weapon of choice. Edward's resistance had been so unexpectedly fierce when Ivan tried to show Latvia that they had NOT been allowed to prepare that party… But, in the end, it was of no avail. It never was.

"Ah! No, wait!! P-please!" a hesitant, almost faint cry came from the hallway's door. Toris busted in, dropping the pile of clean napkins he'd been carrying and rushing to throw himself between his brothers and the vexed Russian. His arms were stretched out in a defensive position but, even so, his head was lowered in a strange, intimidated bow. Finally someone with a little sense of respect.

"W-what's the matter?!…" the Lithuanian managed to ask, in a small voice, after gulping hard. "T-they haven't done anything, have they? S-so why are you… why are you like this, R-Russia-san?"

Ivan shot him an assassin glare, playing with the pipe between his fingers. The sadistic grin was still there. And Toris couldn't help noticing a couple of blood droplets trickling down the blonde man's cheek.

"Yes, they have. And you happen to know what it was."

"N-no… I'm sorry, but… but no, I-I don't…"

For the first time since he walked into that room, Ivan's sick smile turned into a frown, which made his face even more fearsome and dark, and he pulled Toris roughly by the collar to whisper – no, to _hiss_ – in his ear: "_Da, Lietuva_. You know what it was… and what it is… You know all about this… _cursed_… day." He grinned again, more devilishly than ever, and blew a party whistle he collected from the floor. Then he shoved Toris out of his way, wielding the pipe once again and raising it above his own head.

"Don't worry, _Lietuva_." He completed, throwing a glance at the brunette. "I'll take care of you as soon as I'm finished with the ungrateful squirrel!~… -huh?"

A series of light, restrained sobs suddenly distracted Ivan from his speech, making him turn to face his original target once again. Raivis was crying abundantly. At every stream of tears that ran down his face he embraced Edward more strongly, trying to somehow bite back the sobbing and stand bravely, like a man. He owned Estonia that. Not only for the older nation's unconditional love, but mainly because his own childish desire to celebrate Ivan's birthday had caused his beloved brother to now lay unconscious in his arms, with a bloodied lip, a nasty cut on his forehead and possibly a grave concussion. It was all his fault. _His fault_… He just HAD to hang on.

Ivan interrupted his imminent strike; arm standing stiff in mid-air. He saw Latvia's eyes, widened with pure fear, yet glowing with the flame of resistance; victims of a conflict much worse than what a child could handle. He had known that determination, that resignation, that… _will_; that invincible will to survive. In the boy's eyes, he saw himself.

Yes…

A blonde boy crying amid the deep, blood-stained snow.

And it made his arm fall motionlessly to his side.

"G-grandpa… grandpaaaa… why are… *sob* why are you doing this? What h-have I done, grandpa?"

Images swapped fast inside his mind.

"I dream… I dream of a warm place… filled with sunflowers!"

In blinding flashes.

"They've gone too far, now!! Trotsky, you know what to do."

All his life swirling in front of his eyes.

"We don't want children… who can't play nice."

No.

"Braginsky, STOP!! STOP IT!!! DON'T SHOOT THEM!"

A sound of shooting followed by a woman's cry and he was back to the present, in a snap as if of physical pain. His fingers felt uncomfortably numb when holding the over-used pipe, and for that he let his weapon slip to the floor, cold metal scraping against his skin. The loud clang startled the already disturbed Latvia so much that he couldn't help but to quickly shut his eyes. As for Lithuania, he still watched the scene in horror, on the exact spot where he landed after Ivan's powerful push. Supporting himself on his back and elbows; knees half-folded and legs laid in weird angles; he had as much surprise in his eyes as he lacked words in his mouth.

After a long, unnerving and threatening moment of silence, Ivan muttered in a low tone. His face was unreadable, but his eyes looked even darker than before (if it was possible); not a single brush of the original lilac shade remained.

"I'm not feeling well." He stated. "I'm… I'm going back to my bedroom."

And with these simple words he left the wrecked room, strolling as graciously as if nothing at all had happened there.

* * *

*dramatic soundtrack*

Ahem, continues on the next chapter...

Weeeee! First time publishing a story in chapters! w It just HAD to be RusLiet, hadn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

'Oh, no; oh, no... He's going to kill me for sure!... Ye-yes! I am going to die this time!!' thought Lithuania as he paced around in front of Ivan's bedroom door. Even his inner voice was cracking!

It was long past midnight, now. It took him the whole evening to fix the mess after the party incident; long hours in which he cared for nothing but his brothers' health – both physical and emotional -, the hideous state of the dining room and the eminent risk of having Ivan coming back and killing them all. Edward's fever just wouldn't go down! And Raivis kept crying until not so long ago, and the only way Toris found of comforting him was hugging the poor boy until he cried himself to sleep. Something horribly painful to watch.

And to think people still wonder why the Latvian enters a state of sheer shock whenever he sees Ivan!

Well, but now that he had successfully gone through Hell, Toris managed to stop and actually think of the circumstances. What happened there was unexplainable! No, really. Now that he thought of it, it must have been, by far, the most bizarre of the long list of Ivan's rage attacks. Pretty much.

Fist of all, sure the large man was unpredictable, but who on Earth would guess he'd react that way and try to kill Raivis? A boy, in all his innocence, just attempting to bring some happiness and warmth to the place? Wasn't that what Ivan always seemed to desire? Happiness?

Then, what was that of suddenly calming down and stopping beating whatever he had designed to? Usually, once the Russian had picked a target, he wouldn't let go until either his devastated mind got all the fun it wanted, or something else, bigger, flashier and more interesting, interrupted the massacre. For instance, America-san. Toris found it terrible and sad that someone was tormented enough to see relief and satisfaction where others saw only pain, despair, and fear. He did not know why, for all Gods and spirits, Ivan had become like this. Almost inhumanly monstrous. But, somehow, the events that took place in that afternoon gave him a slight clue; something nudging him on the back of his mind as to which was the right direction to the roots of the Russian's scars. Because, many centuries before, for what he had heard from Ukraine; long before Toris and even Natasha were born, Ivan was a sweet, caring boy; a peaceful and happy soul who would skip through sunlit meadows and golden fields of sunflowers…

That is, until he met his Grandfather.

When he reached this conclusion, the Lithuanian's mind suffered a sudden snap of understanding towards many, many things. And he held more fiercely the considerably large and colourful package in his arms. Yes. A birthday present. 'Waaah; what do I do?! I didn't know he hated this day so much, I swear I didn't! How could I know it? How… how could I…?'

Why, it is amazing how a little reflection can bring up ignored details in one's memories. For now Toris could recall small innuendos and hints sent by Ivan to his "family", such as the fact that he never, NEVER talked about birthdays, either other people's, or his own. Or perhaps the way he went missing almost every year, around the end of December and beginning of January, on unexplainable long walks or even trips to the far east of the country, always coming home in the worst of moods. The kind Lithuanian hated the use of foul language, but _oh, shit_! He was the WORST brother of all times! The worst brother, the worst guardian, the worst underling. If only he, when Latvia suggested the celebration with those big, sparkling eyes, had forbid it firmly, saying it was not the best idea, for not everyone like their birthdays… If only he had paid a little more attention to the ways of the person who, in all stances, _dominated_ him…

He sighed. 'Makes me sound like I'm accustomed to it.' Another sigh followed, a hopeless one. 'Well, I suppose it is better to face my mistake anyway. Yes, yes, I shall deliver him _this_. I went through the work of making it, so he might as well accept it fully and willingly! But… but that's what a NORMAL person would think…' at this point the Lithuanian's once resolute face flinched back to a desperate one, but he managed to regain his composure and clean his throat. 'Well, it doesn't matter now. What does matter is that this is the best solution. A-at least out of my other options… Hm, if I left it around the house, he would someday find it, even if I hid it well; he knows when I move a _pin_ to a different storing place, why wouldn't he notice _this_? And as for outside… the gardens… Hm… There, t-there's Natasha… She wanders out there at night quite often, and I'm kind of afraid of what would happen if SHE found the gift… Hmmm…Yoooosh! So it's decided! I'll get it to him!'

With that, and a small, weak smile, the green-eyed lad felt a little braver. Or, at least, so he thought. For as soon as he leaned forward to hear through the heavy oak doors of the dormitory and check if it was occupied, the mortal silence in there changed his mind completely, and so a confusing, entrancing mental battle commenced inside of him. Which led to the sole and irresistible decision of dropping the box somewhere nearby and running away as far as possible.

"Move, _Lietuva_." Toris' heart stopped at the sound of Ivan's freezing, cavern-like tone. "What are you doing? You've been standing there so long and for nothing; that's SO annoying."

Lithuania just couldn't speak. There suddenly was a lump in his throat and something cold moving around in his stomach. He yelped and turned round slowly, feeling his own icy sweat dripping down his face and neck. Ivan narrowed his eyes at the sight of the box.

"What's this?" he shot, sharply. But Toris didn't respond at once. Which made the Russian grab his arm with excessive strength and pull him closer. "WHAT is this?" Then something, perhaps love for dear life, compelled the paralysed nation to answer.

"W-well, this… t-this is…"

Oh, shoosh. He couldn't say it while looking into those murderous eyes. So he took a step back, stretched his arms in front of him and finally spilled the rest of the sentence, all the while with his head down once again, staring at the floor. The present got sort of shoved into Ivan's chest, and Toris felt when said chest was shaken by an unsuppressed gasp.

"This is something I made f-for you. For your bir- er, for your latest v-victory over America-san in Janken-po, that is!… Y-you don't have to open it if you don't want to, Russia-san; in fact, it's nothing important, really, I should just get rid of it, or hand it over to Raivis, or…"

"Shush."

Lithuania immediately complied. Was he mad? So mad he went silent for almost half a minute? Lithuania kept gazing downwards, waiting nervously for a slap or a punch, or any kind of aggression, but none came. Was it surprise, then? Biting his bottom lip, the smaller nation raised his head and risked a glance at the motive of his affliction.

Who, by the way, was gently stroking the carefully tied green, silky bow. He seemed fairly interested, drinking the colour of the lace, which contrasted nicely with the light-yellow wrapping paper, with his eyes. Not interested to the point of wearing his crazed grin, but surely something was different inside those lilac orbs. They seemed less… hideous. Revengeful. Dangerous. You get the point.

'I-I suppose I did well in choosing these colours.' Lithuania thought, relieved. He slowly transferred the box to Ivan's hands, and the Russian proceeded to opening it, sometimes glaring at the younger nation. Soon enough, the wrapping attires laid discarded on the floor, and the contents were revealed: a long, naïve-blue scarf, made of the finest wool Lithuania could find in Vilnius, with green, delicate Russian-style knots and details decorating the borders and running across the background, just as a vine would. Big sunflowers were set among those branches, in a soothing, harmonious mixture, much delightful to look at. A work of Lithuanian art. Ivan unfolded it, twisting and turning the fabric in virtually every direction, testing it and examining it with dull eyes.

Lithuania was very startled when he suddenly flashed a truly _evil_ smile.

"_Lietuva_…" his voice was but a frigid hiss. Nothing more than a whisper, yet it resounded like a thunder in those empty hallways. "…how kind…"

He calmly walked forward, forcing the smaller country to back away until he was against the wall. The brunette's limbs started shaking as his previous fears crawled back into his mind, accompanied by awful memories, terrible remembrances. Of the countless times when Ivan, in the past, had discharged all his anger on the poor lad, or rather, on his body. And these memories made him completely unable to move.

Ivan raised the scarf. Toris inhaled sharply as he felt the deep scars on his back start tingling. The Russian interrupted the motion for a second, but then chuckled lightly and continued to wrap, ever so lightly and gently, the gift around Lithuania's neck. He knew what was going on.

"But you shouldn't have bothered." One time round. "It's a shame…" Two times. "…it doesn't suit me at all…" At each turning Ivan tied the scarf more tightly, to Toris' growing desperation. He thought of maybe dodging, but was already too late: the Russian's large figure blocked his _petite_ frame almost entirely. And the pressure round his throat only increasing, and increasing, by second. His eyes involuntarily narrowed a bit.

For a moment, Ivan tilted his head to the side, smiling broadly, as if to admire the terrified face of his _adored _underling. With that he unblocked the sight of the window located beyond his back, allowing Lithuania to see, aided by dim lantern lights, tiny snowflakes floating around the cold air outside. It was snowing. The last thing Lithuania would see of this world was… fresh snow.

He was going to die. For real.

Oh god, he was being strangled; he was gonna DIE!!

When his mind finally took that in, his hands automatically flew to try and loosen the scarf, but of no use. He strained and pulled hard at the fabric, but Ivan's grip was far too strong. Tried some kicking and thrashing as well, but his legs couldn't move: the lack of oxygen was already taking its toll on his body.

He mentally screamed, clenching his teeth .Was that all he could do to save his own life? All he could do to resist the dreadful heritage of General Winter? Unwillingly, his eyelids dropped closed, and he felt thick tears gathering at their corners.

It was the end. The END.

…though…

He also felt a pair of soft, feather-like lips brush against his own.

And the crushing pressure was relieved without warning.

Ivan broke the kiss and, still holding both of the scarf's ends, mumbled, his face only a hair's breadth from Lithuania's.

"It much rather suits _you_. Matches your eyes."

That was when Lithuania slid to the floor and lost his conscience.

But he could see, though, right before he closed his eyes to enter the sweet world of oblivion, the figure of Ivan walking away in broad steps.

Holding the scarf tightly in his left hand.

* * *

Yes, he does get pissed when his birthday's around. At least inside my sick imagination. xD

So, so, how was it? ///

Sorry for all the excesses, but I love some RusLiet drama!!

Reviews apreciated, indeed. ^w^

And I think I forgot the disclaimer. O_O Oh well, but we all know I don't own Hetalia anyway, so...


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